Saturday, December 14, 2013

Summer Lovin'

You know.... 
                     I give so much of myself
                                                             that quiet evenings at home
                                                                                                            are a bliss

Because Here,
I view my Summer flowers
                                          tended all the cold months

When I Went Away....
                                    I walked,
                                                   and saw many old friends...

Of many forms


And Species


And funghi

And spent some time, barefoot in Victoria Park
With words and grass for company

In the way of the best of times.

And then Home again. 
                                       Where all need a piece, 
                                                                              and weekend evenings provide Peace

Thank Goodness for the Season, 
                                                      its festivities providing a moment of still

For those of us who do not participate, 
Until that day. 

And the Album Of The Week...



Sunday, December 1, 2013

Raggedy Ann


Some times I feel like Raggedy Ann. 

That my stuffing is falling out from a tear in my scalp, 
And my thoughts are incoherant. 
                And difficult to grasp
                                             Made of gossamer, on the wind.....

They float, reach for the sun and breeze, tiny seeds. 
                               And I love and bless each and all of them,
                                                              Though I don't recall them specifically

Into the ether they flow, in whatever their incarnation, 
To be racapured
                           .... At a later date, by myself or another.

As children, daughters, we would collect the seeds from the blue larkspur. 
                                          As an adult, I long for the time when the spikes were taller than me
And move on to lupins,  for the challenge, 
                        And another memory
                                     of favourite children's book, 
                                                       Miss Rumphius, and seed spread readily.

As the irises, flag and Dutch, leave behind their ghosts
I smile, 
And adore their tissue paper forms.
Dying things have their own special beauty


And the Alliums flower, heralding harvest, 
Impressing me with their stages, 
And I make pesto from their stalks,
Nothing wasted. 

The LilyPily  flowers burst, and my hay-fever erupts, 
But I can't escape their beauty, 
Their optic fiber tutus, 
Their new pink leaves.

And we, many hands, built a dragon
To breathe smoke through nostrils, 
Warm us in Winter, 
And bake out pizza and other garden goods. 
She will be mosaic covered when complete. 

But the colours, textures and vivacity of the simple are never far from mind.